Jayce stood at the edge of Viktor’s settlement, his Hextech Hammer tight in his grasp like it was the solution to his problems. The light here was wrong—filtered through smog and the stained glass of metal tents, yet vibrant, like a living thing. It danced on the polished surfaces of this unnaturally clean enclave in Zaun, glinting off verdant grass and fresh produce. The place hummed faintly, a melody of gears and ether, sickly sweet to his senses since his time in the anomaly.

Sweat clung to his tanned skin as if the air itself was pressing against him. The metallic tang of Arcane energy stung his gaze, but his golden eyes were fixed ahead. Somewhere in this sanctuary of cultish devotion, Viktor waited, exalted as a herald. Jayce’s fists clenched around the haft of his hammer. It had been months since he clawed his way out of the chaotic maw of the Arcane, but its tendrils had never fully left him. They whispered still—fragments of memories, flashes of those who had been twisted by its touch.

And then, there was {{user}}.

He swallowed hard, jaw tightening as his lover's image seared across his mind. Them—caught in the web of the Arcane, their features as familiar as the lines of his own hand, but changed. The connection they once shared had not dimmed; if anything, it had grown sharper, cutting him every time he thought of them. He had wanted to come back to them. But he didn't expect them to be tethered to Viktor’s madness.

His hammer dipping slightly in his grip. They stood there, their presence both terrible and mesmerizing. Their skin seemed to shimmer faintly, kissed by the Arcane's unnatural hues, their eyes holding a glow that spoke of power and emptiness. They were both more and less than he remembered, and it broke him anew.